the third corazon
by saunatonttu
Summary: Trafalgar Law is a tragedy in the making; the third Corazon of Donquixote family. AU. Rated T. Warnings for violence and mental health issues.


**A/N: **I'm in love with this AU. (Also I'm sorry for not having updated my other stories in a while; I got caught up in my own lack of motivation for everything and... well, exams. x.x

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><p><strong>the third corazon<strong>

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There's a kingdom far, far away from the Blue oceans – in the Grand Line, after the Paradise – called Dressrosa; a kingdom renowned for its beauty and passion, and it enjoys a handsome number of tourists each year.

At the heart of the lovely kingdom, behind the facade of beautiful women and playful toys, there lies a darkness that should never see the daylight.

The kingdom is wrapped in it without realizing it – the women, the men, the children all see the sun but not the long shadows the light casts in its wake.

The brighter the light, the darker the shadow – and the shadow behind Dressrosa is pitch black.

.

.

The tainted black comes from the King – a man of wicked desires and diabolic plots – and whenever he clicks his tongue, a death is pronounced.

One finger moves, tantalizingly slowly, until something snaps and breaks.

The King is no King at all – he's a Joker, one that mimics a true King but unable to become one.

A face as honorable as any could be, a mind more twisted than a maze.

It's only fitting that the King has subordinates born out of the crimes of the world – there is no crime that breeds no hate, no tragedy that does not upbring a child into vengeance.

Within the Royalty of Dressrosa, there's a child that has been bestowed with nothing but tragedy; a man whose backbone has been tested and wrecked, broken and reformed into something entirely different.

An ink-painted skin, dark like the finest brown, and hair as black as the insides of his heart.

Trafalgar Law is the name of the tragedy in the making, and he occupies the lonely Seat of Heart in the inner chambers of the stone castle. There are three other seats – of Clubs, of Diamond, and of Spade – and each has been tainted by their occupants.

Four officers, one King – and one of the four as the right-hand to the madness.

.

.

Doflamingo's ominous laughter echoes off the walls as he leans back on his throne, his lips up in a tender poison smile.

"I'm a very lenient man most of the time," he sighs, and there is minimal regret attached to his tone, which is betrayed by the ear-to-ear smile he wears. "Unfortunately, Law is far more unforgiving."

The victim of this case – one that will never be remembered, one that the dust of time is quick to cover – quivers, eyes wide with horror as light steps sound in the stone-walled room.

A sword is drawn out with a harsh clink of metal, the countdown to execution decided, and it only takes a blink of an eye for the weapon to plunge into the pale flesh of the terrified failure of a crewmate.

The narrow golden eyes take in the blood that rushes to the stone-cold floor, a sight they have seen time after time, again and again.

Trafalgar Law lets out a tight-lipped smile as he takes a step back, twisting the sword inside the victim's gut once more before pulling it out to release the rest of the blood flood.

Death is a messy affair, but it is one that has followed Law since childhood – he owes it a few gifts as _thanks _for the education.

"Tsk tsk, Law. As a surgeon, you really ought to be more neat than that," Doflamingo clicks at his tongue, but the smile on his lips stretches until his teeth show and glint under the pale light that trickles into the room.

"Outside the operating room, I don't particularly care," Law's response is bleak, devoid of care, and he brings Kikoku up for an inspection. "Even then, things get messy once I get my hands on organs."

An edged smile blooms on his lips as he turns his head and gives a sideway glance to Doflamingo, gold blazing in his eyes like a corrupted sun. "I'm allowed to cut him apart, right?"

"Running out of playthings, are you, Law?" Doflamingo cracks his neck, the sound loud in the room as Law bends down to check the pulse of the man.

Faint _thud-thud-thud_ beats against his fingers, and Law frowns – oh, well, a beating heart is as good as any.

"On the contrary-"

A flick of his hand, and a sphere tinted with blue rises around him like a protective wall, covering the body crippled by Death's hand.

"-I'm just getting started."

.

.

Hands clasped over the knee carelessly tossed on top of the other, Law smiles a smile that Doflamingo has given him as a gift: a smile of insincerity, one coated with promises that send chills down to one's bones.

"A still beating heart? You certainly keep surprising us, Trafalgar-san," the man before Law comments, nervousness dripping from his tone like acid whereas Law is completely at ease, posture relaxing further as the older man shifts with unhidden anxiety.

Law laughs softly, his fingers tapping at his knee casually, and the other's eyes trail down to the ink letters on the backs of the fingers.

"I like to spice up the business every now and then," he agrees, "since that fetches quite a price most of the time."

Law reaches out for the glass case he keeps the heart in, and brushes his thumb against the flat corners – the glass is cold and smooth beneath his touch.

"N-naturally," the elder man swallows, fingers slowly untangling the knots in his long whitened hair. "Any price you set, Trafalgar-san."

Lips curl up higher, the corner's of Law's mouth forming an edge to the smile that makes Disco wince and sweat.

Golden eyes flash as Law straightens himself, uncrossing his legs, and looks evenly at Disco's pallid face.

"How about," Law murmurs with glee thick on his tongue, "your death, Disco-ya?"

.

.

"_How did it go, Law?"_

"_Disco-ya's been disposed of – properly."_

"_Fufufu, that's my boy." _

.

.

The story begins with a boy – they always do – and there is happiness at the beginning.

In a city whiter than fresh snow, Trafalgar Law was born and raised his first decade on Earth, and he was a boy like the others, even luckier than some with his loving family that supported him through the decade they were together.

The decade that nurtured him into a happy boy was as well as erased completely when the war broke out.

The disease that had run rampant in the city was all but weeded out by the soldiers – Law's family forming a set of victims nicely placed upon the cold hard ground: a grotesquely picturesque scene that shattered the happiness the boy had once had.

(His sister – his sister burnt in the flames someone had set on the hospital – his baby sister, whom he had been supposed to be there for in their parents' stead.)

He hid himself beneath piles of corpses, his white hat bloody red by the time he got out of the country.

The dead left their marks on him, invisible but permanent, and by the time Law climbed up from beneath a woman's broken back, the change had already settled into his bones.

Tears dry, anger surfaced – the hatred that made everything else turn to wasteland in his world.

(But what was there to destroy, when everything had already gone bleak, and even his sand of life was running out in three years' time?)

.

.

"_I'll make you into something great, Law."_

.

.

Under Doflamingo's care, Law grows and he does so fantastically – the wasteland in his heart spreads further, vaster.

No one is there to save him.

(In another universe, there is Corazon-

and he is here as well

but he fails.)

But he has a family again – and even the blackest heart adjusts to it accordingly, a twisted care quivering in his heartstrings.

(and a child is easy to cast impressions upon.)

.

.

Law says nothing when Doflamingo takes the position as one of the Warlords of the sea – he doesn't have to, for the rigid set of his lanky shoulders speak it all for him.

He's fifteen, then, almost sixteen, and the anger has evolved from the burning flames into an ember that bursts into life if provoked enough.

Law clicks his tongue irritably, his fingers hard around the sword he had been given once his swordsmanship had been noted as _passable_ by Diamante.

It feels like a third degree betrayal; for Doflamingo to fraternize with the enemy, one that Law is set on destroying completely now that there's no danger of him kicking the bucket on his own.

But the cold, hard logical part of him sees the sense in Doflamingo's move: there is so much one can accomplish when putting on the facade of acting on the Navy's terms.

It still doesn't make him any less pissed off when Doflamingo's hand ruffles at his, for once, hatless head in a way he had done when Law was ten and eleven.

Affection drips from the gesture, enough to make Law's shoulders slump as he drinks in the offered attention.

"Don't look so sullen now, Law," Doflamingo croons, his voice barely audible over the ruckus in the galley (Baby 5 and Buffalo cheer, Trebol is sniffling as snot drips from his nose, Diamante's laughter practically drowning the rest of the background noise), and Law bristles before releasing a breath, the tightness in his chest never relenting.

Law glances at Doflamingo from the corner of his eye, brow furrowed, and the silent glare is every bit as intimidating as it's always been.

(Baby 5 flinches as she glances at him; Law's darkest glares had always been towards her whenever she failed to leave him be.)

Then, wordlessly, Law stomps off from the galley, the quiet fury hardening each of his step as he walks away from his-

(savior, mentor)

–captain.

"What's up with _him_," Baby 5 huffs as her delicate but deadly fingers brush her curls behind her ear, her lips scowling but eyes gleaming with worry.

Doflamingo's broad shoulders give an exaggerated shrug, as the man contemplatively looks at the door Law had slammed shut in a fit of teenage rebellious rage.

"The kid's got a vendetta against the Marines," he drawls, a quiet 'fufufu' accompanying the words. "It's no wonder he's reacting badly to me accepting such a proposition."

Baby 5 knows all of this; the inner circle of Doflamingo's family all know; but there is only one that knows just how deep the trauma of Law's past truly goes.

And that same man knows Law will learn the most important lesson of them all: patience.

.

.

At sixteen, before the permanent trip to Dressrosa, the mark of Donquixote family rests on his back, reaching from his shoulderblades down to the middle of his back, the insignia's smirk frightening.

The mark is on white ink – as per request from Law himself – and the _never forget_ sentiment is all too obvious to those who know of the terror of Law's childhood.

"It looks good on you," Doflamingo smiles when the tattoo is finally exposed to the light of the day, and Law gives a small nod of acknowledgement, although he would not know how it looks.

(Corazon would probably turn in his grave if he knew; but his opinion is one that Law no longer cares for – hadn't cared for since Corazon had turned out to be One of _Them_.)

.

.

At twenty, the Heart Seat is his, and he sits on it like it has always been his.

In a way, it has; the past seven years the Seat has waited for him, and while it is bitter – the leftovers of a dead man – Law finds himself comfortable.

"Behehehehe, does it feel good, Law?" Trebol's laughter from the Club Seat breaks Law's personal bubble harshly, and the young man looks at his side, annoyed but indulging the fellow officer. "You finally made it this far!"

It's almost fascinating to watch the snot drip down Trebol's nose, in a similar nasty way that Law's patients bleed out on the operating table under his eyes.

"I suppose," Law gives that much, his lips a thin line as Trebol leans over. "Back off, Trebol."

"Buuuut~? Back off, but~?"

"Trebol," Doflamingo's voice cuts the two off, just as Law's fingers dance to the hilt of Kikoku, "sit down."

Trebol seems to hover over Law a moment longer, but he pulls back to his own seat with a laugh, and Law's fingers relax as they drop from the hilt of the sword.

Doflamingo's gaze flickers over to Law – whose figure is greatly outmatched by the height of the Heart Seat – and something close to smug pride reflects off from the tinted shades.

Undoubtedly, there's the smug realization that he had been right to take Law in all those years ago (the kid strapped in grenades, with the gold-speckled eyes more dead than the pile of corpses in the yard) and Law smiles faintly at the sense of fulfillment Doflamingo's unspoken pride evokes in him.

His reason to live is warped, but good enough.

.

.

Sleep is a stranger to some, and to Law it's a visitor that raises hell and wrecks the home of his mind.

He trains, he eats, he reads – he practices his fucked up medicine – he does anything he can to avoid sleep as long as possible.

When this routine started, he can't tell.

(Doflamingo probably can, however.)

It's Diamante and Gladius that help him stay up the most, being the hardasses they are, and while they do not make any notion of realization _why_ Law felt like having a training session at midnight, Law knows they understood his reasons.

Gladius still kicks at him whenever his aim is off, though not at his back anymore – rather, Law's kneecaps are the victim.

Diamante's swordsmanship is what feels most natural to Law – putting his Devil Fruit abilities asides – and it's with the officer of the Diamond Seat that the officer of the Heart kills time the most and easiest.

(Baby 5, too; she and he get on like a house on fire.)

And so, his sleep is kept at bare minimum: a fact the dark bags beneath his eyes attest to.

.

.

There are days when his eyelids just won't open, and when opening them is a fight he doesn't want to engage.

Today, he finds, is one of those days as he hovers between reality and the dream world.

He knows he has things to do, people to threaten, contracts to get for Doflamingo – but his bones are like the lead that nearly killed him in the past.

There is a vague thought – _what's the point_ – and there's a tight feeling somewhere inside his chest, around his heart, that doesn't go away.

A barbed wire, that's what it is that has wound around his heart, and which slowly sinks deeper into the flesh of the organ.

Past is past, nothing can change it – but the fire that he sees with his mind's eye cannot be extinguished, nor can he unhear the screams of his baby sister.

The tears still won't come, and Law rolls laboriously to his side, his sweaty cheek sinking into the pillow as though seeking for comfort that no longer can be given.

.

.

"Where's Law?" Doflamingo brushes a hand against his cheek, wiping the dripping blood off, none of which is his own. "He hasn't set out on his own again, has he?"

The kid's as carefree and willful as any rebellious teenager, even with two decades to his life, and part of Doflamingo likes it as much the other part loathes it.

Baby 5 lifts her head from the newspaper she's been studying, a worried frown on her lips. "He came for breakfast, but he went back to his room, and hasn't come out since."

"Ah," Doflamingo makes a sound of acknowledgement, head tilting down as he remembers. "Right. It's that time of year again..."

With a sigh, the Warlord glances at Baby 5. "I'm off with Trebol for a few days," he says curtly, matter-of-factly, although a small wrinkle between his brows betrays his concern. "Make sure Law eats something – it's annoying, but you remember how it was last time."

She gives a nod, the flash of anxiety in her eyes noticeable. "I'll forcefeed him if I must, young master," she promises with the fierceness of a worried sister.

Doflamingo has no doubts that that's what she will do, and with that, he leaves his sun-kissed kingdom for another trip.

.

.

"Law?"

The Heart executive makes no sound to acknowledge Doflamingo's presence, but that doesn't mean Law isn't aware of it.

Doflamingo knows this, and thus he proceeds to the bed where his right-hand man lies. Law shuffles beneath the blankets, bare feet peeking out, and Doflamingo makes a move to sit down at the edge of the mattress, which sinks down noticeably under his weight.

"I brought you some whiskey," Doflamingo murmurs, "the brand you like."

That makes the blankets shift some more, and Law's face pops out from beneath them. The eyes that usually glint with mischief and ill promises look blank, similar to those of a dead fish, and the dark rings look blacker than the darkest night.

Doflamingo raises the bottle, shows it to Law, who nods numbly and reaches for it as Doflamingo pops it open.

Law pulls himself up before taking a long gulp from the bottle, some of the liquor trickling down from the corners of his lips as the pink-coated man watches attentively at the cold sweat clinging to Law's skin, at the shivers of the bony wrist.

"Thanks," Law's voice is hoarse as he hands the bottle back to Doflamingo, a hand wiping the wetness off from his lips.

Doflamingo sets the bottle down to the nightstand beside the bed, in the line of Law's vision. "Vergo's coming to visit soon," he comments lightly as he pulls himself up to his two waddling legs. "Rest well before that, Law. I'm hoping to see your Haki in action."

Law's hand shoots out, long fingers curling around the feathers of Doflamingo's long fluttery coat.

"Hmm?"

Law's looking at him, then, with wide eyes, an unvoiced request apparent on his exhausted face.

"Fufufu... now, this is rare," he muses out loud as his hand moves to cradle Law's face. "You're not one to seek affection."

Law makes a face, a weak annoyance twitching at the corners of his mouth, but – but it's not like Doflamingo is wrong, either way.

"Fine, fine," Doflamingo hums, pulling his hand away. "Move aside a bit."

The large man – a giant compared to Law, truly – sets himself down onto the mattress, and beckons Law to come to his side.

Relief shining in his tired, flat yellow eyes, Law rolls over to Doflamingo's side and curls up into the pink feathers, head pressed against his captain's chest.

(captain, mentor, big brother.)

Doflamingo's lips relax when Law's breathing eases into a steady warmth at the captain's side, the lines of weariness smoothing out a little bit on the young man's face.

It's the first time Law's sleeping by his side like this since his childhood – since the nightmares were more frequent and tears more easy-coming – and Doflamingo finds he likes the sense of nostalgia as he threads his fingers through Law's dark and greasy hair.

"Aniki..."

Doflamingo's not a man easily startled, but that does earn a cock of his eyebrows as his eyes slide back to glance at Law's face.

A smile more genuine than the ones Law has mastered, and lips slightly parted as the word repeats itself.

_Aniki._

Doflamingo laughs, surprised as he rubs at the back of Law's neck like one would do to a cat. It's been a long time since Law's lips uttered that word, even longer than Doflamingo had previously realized.

Children grow up so fast.

"Sleep well, Law," he murmurs as he picks the tinted shades off from his own face and sets them down, eyes closed as the silence stretches on.

.

.

There are no happy endings – but there are times when we're less miserable than usual.


End file.
